


Behind Your Eyes

by AJWmagickl



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, maybe some explosives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJWmagickl/pseuds/AJWmagickl
Summary: Daryl shivered, trying like hell to keep his teeth from chattering as he straddled a branch in a huge pine tree. It was dark, windy, and fucking freezing. Once in a while, a flurry of tiny, dry snowflakes tried to make it to the ground, but it was even too cold for them.





	Behind Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> For Desus Holiday Bingo 2017! The prompt is "Fireworks".

Daryl shivered, trying like hell to keep his teeth from chattering as he straddled a branch in a huge pine tree. It was dark, windy, and fucking freezing. Once in a while, a flurry of tiny, dry snowflakes tried to make it to the ground, but it was even too cold for them.

In Georgia, they would have called this “indoor weather”, even in the Dixon household. In Virginia, they just called it another winter’s day. Or in this case, night.

At least he’d prepared. He held his crossbow with thick leather gloves, knowing he would have to lose those if he actually needed to fight. Reluctantly, he’d layered up with an undershirt, a flannel shirt, a vest, a beanie, a wool scarf to cover his face, and a coat that looked like a fucking parka. He could barely move by the time Paul finished throwing clothing at him before they left Hilltop.

“I feel like the fucking Staypuft marshmallow man.” He’d swung his arms in tight, clumsy circles, trying to relieve some of the tension the layers of fabric were putting on his broad shoulders. “I can barely walk like this, how the fuck am I s’posed to fight?”

“You’ll thank me later.”, Paul had replied with a too-amused grin.

“Yeah, when I’m dead. At least I’ll be warm.”, snarled Daryl.

“At least you’ll be warm.”

That was fifteen hours ago, and Daryl had to admit, he might have needed more layers. Because he wasn’t warm at all, unlike Paul who seemed unfazed by the freezing temperatures as his feet dangled from a branch nearby. Daryl could see his breath coming out in long, easy clouds of frost, as he gazed toward a distant highway through a pair of binoculars.

As if he could feel Daryl’s eyes on him, he lowered the binoculars and twisted slightly. He seemed as comfortable in that tree as he might’ve been sitting on a lawn chair. “Nothing yet”, he said, as he took in Daryl’s current state of being. “Cold much?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you look cold.” Paul squinted his eyes. “Are your teeth chattering?”

“No. Now shut up.”

“If you want to go sit in the car…”  
  
“I’m fucking fine, ya prick.” Daryl was growling now, which caused Jesus’ grin to turn downright snide, which caused Daryl to almost have an aneurysm from the frustration of it all. “I’ve been huntin’ all my damn life. You think I can’t handle a chilly night?”

Paul shrugged and turned back toward the road. “I know, you’re a tough guy. But you’re a Georgia tough guy smack in the middle of a Virginia winter. It’s a whole different thing.” He spared one more glance toward Daryl before raising the binoculars again. “It doesn’t make you less of a man if you go to the car.”

Daryl was about to let loose on this fucking hippie ninja about how _he didn’t have nothin’ to prove_ , when Jesus lifted a hand.

“Got something.”, he whispered, even though no one was around for miles.

“They comin’?”

“Seven…no, eight vehicles, I can see the lights from here. Who else would it be?”

“Nobody.”, answered Daryl. “That’s gotta be most of ‘em, right? You ready?”

Paul stuffed the binoculars in his pack that nested in the crook of a branch, and nodded. “I think we have about ten minutes.” He slung the pack on his shoulder and jumped effortlessly to the ground.

Daryl was glad Paul was already headed away by the time he flailed his lumpy, overly-clothed body to the forest floor. He could climb in and out of trees as easily as he could when he was a kid, at least when he wasn’t fighting a fucking down-alternative puffy parka. The thing had a hood, for cryin’ out loud.

He landed with all the grace of Merle trying to pick up women at a church picnic, righting himself quickly to trudge grouchily through the woods after Paul.

It was a short two-minute walk from their lookout spot to a huge metal warehouse. Wooden windows and doors lined the building that was at least twice as long as it was wide. Aside from that, on the outside it was unpainted and unadorned. On the inside, it was a goldmine.

Daryl and Paul had already been here once today, setting things up, so they slipped in through a broken door at the back and separated immediately to check the charges on the last two explosives they had left.

They’d used the rest in the war. Guns were everywhere but ammunition was scarce, at least until they could safely get Eugene to the shop where he could make more. Now Negan sat raging in a cinder block cell in Alexandria, and most of the saviors that survived had stayed under Dwight’s leadership at what was left of the Sanctuary.

The ones that didn’t stay? That’s why Daryl was here, freezing to death rather than giving Paul the satisfaction of admitting he might be cold. 

A not-so-small band of saviors, maybe fifty or more, roamed the woods between Alexandria, Hilltop and The Kingdom, picking off runners and hunters from the communities, ambushing anyone they could. A group of them had even come straight at Alexandria’s walls more than once, hoping to reclaim their leader and start again.

So, Rick did what had worked before. They found someone to work from the inside, a little man named Mike that pretended to defect from the sanctuary and joined the rogue saviors, but fed information back to the communities. And when Daryl and Paul found this warehouse on a run, they realized they had a way of dealing with these assholes once and for all.

Mike the mole had apparently done his job convincing the saviors that he’d overheard some Alexandrians in the woods saying they’d found an untouched warehouse full of sporting goods. It was something anyone trying to survive these days would steal or fight for. He’d gotten the timing right too, leading his group to believe they were cleaning out the warehouse tomorrow. That gave the saviors tonight to bring their trucks and clear the stuff out first.

And apparently, that was exactly their plan. The trucks rumbled into the parking lot just as Daryl and Paul fled through the back door and into the woods, circling around the building from behind the trees. The quarter moon cast vague light, but it was enough to see well over thirty men and women crawling out of trucks and vans. Daryl was glad to see so many, it seemed the saviors were intent on clearing out the warehouse quickly and completely, and they brought the numbers for it. It took no time for them to break the door and begin filing inside.

Daryl held the detonator switch in one hand as he grasped Paul’s arm with the other, pulling him as far back into the trees as he dared. He needed to be close enough to trigger the explosives, but both he and Paul knew that this was dangerous business.

Daryl glanced at Paul. He doubted either one of them felt cold at the moment, adrenaline pumping through their veins. He waiting for Paul’s agreement, and when the other man looked at him and nodded briefly, he flipped the switch. And they ran.

The building erupted, explosives detonating simultaneously at either end of the building. Around them, trees flashed gold and orange, reflecting the flames that shot from the top of the warehouse, and behind them, they could hear screams of those inside the building and yelling from those outside. Neither man could risk the time to turn around and look, but Daryl hoped that at least a few of the vehicles were on fire as well. If they weren’t they would be soon.

More blasts made the two men stumble forward but they didn’t stop, regaining their footing and maintaining a solid pace, because this wasn’t the end of the show. The second half was just beginning, as loud pops began to echo through the woods, followed by mechanical whistling sounds and now, more screams.

_”BOOM!”_

Paul was on Daryl’s heels, close enough to put his hand on his back. “Keep going.”, he huffed, like Daryl didn’t _know that_. But an edge of panic tinged Paul’s voice, and even Daryl had to admit that the fire and noise behind them was unnerving. The booming and whistling sounds were constant now, and bright bursting lights of red, green, blue and gold caused the woods to flare into color again and again.

But it was what was _coming_ that kept them racing, the cold air burning their lungs and stinging their faces, as they kept to the trees. They were no more than three minutes of dead run away from the warehouse when the walkers began to appear.

They skirted some, running fast along the edge of the herds that were forming, pushing stragglers out of the way, not stopping to kill unless they absolutely had to. Some of the dead would turn and began to follow them, until another huge boom shook the sky, and the subsequent flashes of light caused them to stagger back in the direction of the warehouse, and the saviors.

By the time the men reached the safe house, Daryl had a painful stitch in his side and his lungs ached. Paul reached the house first, unlocking the front door with a key before they both stumbled inside, closing the door behind them and leaning against it to catch their breath.

This was the best safe house they had, and it was pure luck that it was close to the warehouse. Brick walls, storm windows and a second floor offered real protection from the walkers, and although it had been a grueling run to get here, it was only about fifteen minutes. They’d come by earlier to stock it with provisions, but at the moment, neither of them had the energy to get them.

Paul pulled a bottle of water from his pack, taking a sip and handing it to Daryl. “Slow.”, he said.

“Yeah.”, answered Daryl, taking a sip and handing it back to Paul, their fingers brushing lightly through gloves.

They sat for a moment, catching their breath, Daryl willing his respiratory system to unfreeze.

“Well, I’d say that worked.” Both men snickered at Paul’s words, but only because they both hurt too much to full out laugh.

Daryl snatched the bottle from Paul’s hand and took a longer sip this time. “Guess so. Time’ll tell though.”

“It worked.”, Paul emphasized, looking at Daryl with curiousity. “Must you always be so skeptical?”

 “We don’t know what else is happening. As long the walkers are keeping them from driving out of there, and if Rick got to their camp to take out the rest of them…”

“It worked.”, said Paul again. “Don’t be a buzzkill. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.” He stood up and held his hand out to Daryl.

“Huh?”, Daryl questioned as he was pulled to his feet.

“Come with me.” Paul gestured toward the stairs and they climbed, slower than they normally would have. Daryl could see the exhaustion in Paul’s steps as they reached the top and found a room with a window facing the direction of the warehouse.

The corners of Daryl’s mouth tipped up as he huffed. “Finding a fireworks factory was a fucking miracle.” From where they stood, they could still see huge, glittering bursts of light above the tree line.

“It was good timing, that’s for sure.”, said Paul, turning to Daryl with a grin on his face. “Like I said, it’s New Year’s Eve.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know that. Ain’t nobody kept a calendar since all this shit started.”

“True…”, Paul replied, stepping completely into Daryl’s space until the toes of their boots were touching. “But it’s cold outside, we’ve got fireworks, and we just got rid of the last remaining rogue saviors. It’s a new beginning.” He shrugged and nudged Daryl’s nose lightly with his own. “So we only need one more thing to make New Year’s Eve official.”

“Booze?”

“Not booze.” Paul laughed as he leaned in and his tongue darted out to lick along the seam of Daryl’s lips, lightly, before pulling him into a deep kiss.

It wasn’t their first kiss, and it wouldn’t be their last, but it was the only time that Daryl Dixon had been kissed on New Year’s Eve. There were fireworks outside the window, and a few more behind Daryl’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I put this poor little unbeta'd thing together pretty quickly and the ending feels a little wonky to me, but then it doesn't, and I couldn't decide so I left it.
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcomed, appreciated, hugged, and sent on to the next fanfic writer who needs them.


End file.
